


Welcome to Cabin Pressure

by allamchick



Category: Cabin Pressure, Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 23:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allamchick/pseuds/allamchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerti makes an unexpected stop in Night Vale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. MJN

"Carolyn, we can't fly to California! We only ordered enough fuel to travel from Fitton to New York and back to Fitton. And I have a van job tomorrow, which I put on the calendar last week. It's out of the question!" Martin huffed, folding his slender arms over his chest and glaring with absolutely no authority whatsoever. Carolyn smirked.

"Martin, there's no use trying your 'supreme commander' routine on me. We will fuel up at the airport and fly the lovely customer, who has arranged everything and is paying handsomely for the privilege, to sunny California and then home to dreary Fitton. And since I now pay you to fly, you can cancel that van job and do your _real_ job."

Douglas cleared his throat in Carolyn's direction. She rolled her eyes heavenward and asked, "What now?"

"Carolyn, we can't fly to California! I made reservations for Martin and I at Antonio's tomorrow evening. That has also been on the calendar for a week. Do you know how difficult it was to get those reservations? Antonio's is quite exclusive." Douglas sniffed, folding his muscular arms over his chest and glaring with much more authority than Martin. Carolyn smirked again.

"If it sweetens the pot at all, and even if it doesn't, Mr. Brentwood has made reservations for us in his hotel. As in his own personal, five-star hotel in swanky Beverly Hills. He said we can do anything we want for two days and he is footing the bill. So do shut up already, the both of you!"

Martin sighed and tossed a sideways glance at his boyfriend, who was smiling from ear to ear.

"Douglas," Martin groaned. 

"Oh, Martin, if we must, we must. Mr. Brentwood is, after all, the customer, and the customer is always right."

"That's not what you're thinking, is it?"

"Not really, sir. I was thinking more along the lines of a candlelit dinner in our room, followed by a riveting movie of my choosing, and then a night of wondrous sex."

Martin cleared his throat. "Oh, well, since you put it that way..."

Put that way, Martin now looked forward to their two days in California, humming as Gerti soared over the United States.

"You've changed your tune," Douglas teased, watching his boyfriend smile at some unknown thought. "So, tell me what's going through that captainy head of yours."

"Oh, I was just remembering that night we spent in Bristol, remember? At that little seaside inn?"

Before Douglas could remark that he did indeed remember and now needed a bit of a cold shower, Arthur banged through the flight deck door with the drinks trolley. Douglas and Martin turned toward their steward and glared, an act which went completely unnoticed. Arthur carried on without skipping a beat.

"Coffees, chaps," he bubbled enthusiastically. "Just the way you like them. And some of those brilliant hob nobs from Mum's personal stash. Although I probably shouldn't have told you that..."

Martin shook his head. "We know she has a personal stash, Arthur."

"You do, Skip? Wow! Because I didn't even know until today, when it fell on my head from the upper cabinet in the galley!"

"Good heavens, Arthur, were you hurt?" Douglas asked, although he suspected not. Arthur would probably say -

"It was brilliant! The bin fell open and all sort of treats poured out!"

Douglas threw Arthur one of his patented eye rolls. "Of course. Thank you, Arthur. Now we really must..."

Douglas stopped speaking because Arthur stopped listening. He was staring out the flight deck window, an even more confused look than usual plastering his face.

"Sorry to interrupt, Douglas, but I have a question. The sky is usually blue, right?"

Douglas and Martin exchanged pointed glances.

"Yes, Arthur, the sky is blue," Douglas said slowly. "Why do you ask?"

"Well," Arthur replied, pointing toward the window, "the sky isn't blue here. I thought it was blue everywhere!"

Douglas and Martin turned to look out of the window and gasped in unison. The sky was, indeed, not blue.

"It's...it's...it's purple!" Martin cried. "When did _that_ happen?" 

"That can't be right, it must be an illusion," Douglas growled, quickly checking over the instruments. "A reflection off of water droplets in the clouds..."

"No, Douglas, it's purple. Very, very purple. The grape jam I smeared on my toast this morning wasn't even that purple." Martin joined Douglas in checking the instruments.

"We're flying over the desert. Nevada. It's probably a heat reaction, Martin. It has to be something explainable. I'll radio the tower." 

Douglas pressed the button, but the radio was dead.

"Alright now, don't panic!" he cried, watching Martin prepare to do just that.

"What...what...oh God, Douglas!...what do we do?"

"Try the sat phone, Martin!"

He did, and then shook his head. 

"Not working, either!"

"Chaps, are we in a spot of bother?" Arthur asked, leaning on the instrument panel and staring at the purple sky with a huge smile on his face.

Martin and Douglas both turned to Arthur at the same time and yelled, "Yes!"

"Should I fetch Mum?"

"Yes, I think so, Arthur," Douglas sighed. "We should tell her. But don't say anything to Mr. Brentwood until we know what's going on!"

"That'll be easy. He's been asleep. Off I go."

Arthur banged back out through the door with the trolley, still smiling as if the previous conversation had never taken place.

"That boy," Douglas growled. "I'd swear in court he has a toblerone for a brain!"

Martin whimpered. He tapped the instruments and shook his head.

"What's going on, Douglas? The instruments aren't moving. We're supposed to be flying over Nevada but the instruments are frozen. I don't know where we are. The sky is purple. Oh, God, what do we do?"

"Keep calm, captain. There must be a logical explanation. Let's think this through."

As if on cue, Carolyn burst through the flight deck door, out of breath.

"Arthur told me to hurry. Woke me out of a sound sleep! He said we're in trouble, something about a purple sky. That boy..."

Douglas pointed out the flight deck window and Carolyn screamed.

"Oh my God! What...I mean...well I never...did you radio the tower?"

"And therein lies the problem, O Mistress of the Bloody Obvious. Our instrument panel is down. Kaput. Nothing works. Not even the sat phone." Douglas slashed a finger across his throat and shook his head. 

Carolyn opened her mouth to speak, but was stunned into silence when, instead of a purple sky, a room full of people materialized around Gerti.

And then the universe exploded.


	2. Night Vale

"Good night, dear listeners. Good night." 

Cecil Baldwin, "The Voice of Night Vale," clicked off his microphone and slipped his ear phones down around his neck. Another broadcast was complete and he smiled at a job well done. He also smiled because in less than 10 minutes he would meet his sweet, sweet Carlos at the Night Vale High School Gymnasium. The Night Vale _winners_ were playing the Desert Bluffs _losers_ in the basketball game of the year. The whole town would be there. He looked at his watch. He had better hurry. He didn't want to miss one second of Carlos' perfect lips against his own hungry mouth in that first, glorious kiss of the evening.

The sky was purple and clear. Not a cloud in sight. The air was cool and smelled of hazel nut and the past. Cecil smiled. He knew it would be a perfect evening. 

He walked faster toward the gym, wondering if Carlos would be waiting. His perfect Carlos. There was nothing about Carlos that Cecil disliked. Well, perhaps his chewing, which was just a bit loud. But as long as the Sheriff's secret police didn't cite Carlos for noise pollution (resulting in mandatory reeducation and brownie bake-off), Cecil could overlook the scientist's one flaw.

Cecil heard a low rumbling from the clear purple sky. He looked up and saw an airplane overhead. _I wonder where it's going?_ he thought absently, smiling and waving although he knew the people on board could not see him. Perhaps one day he and Carlos would take a trip. He smiled at the thought and hurried on, knowing in his heart he would never leave Night Vale. _Could_ never leave Night Vale. Neither of them could ever leave. _Ever_.

But why would they want to?

_Oh, there's Carlos!_ Cecil thought happily as he approached the gymnasium. _Oh, look at his perfect brown hair with just a touch of gray! Oh, he's wearing his blue lab coat, my favorite!_ Cecil ran to Carlos and kissed him passionately. Carlos returned the kiss, running his strong hands along Cecil's back. Cecil's skin tingled in anticipation, but that could just be his tattoos shifting. They were ticklish. 

Oh, yes, it promised to be a perfect evening.

They walked hand-in-hand through the large doors into the gymnasium. The bleachers were filling quickly, but Cecil and Carlos managed to snag two prime spots in the first row, right in front of the action. They intertwined fingers and waited for the pregame announcements.

Mayor Pamela Winchell approached a microphone, which appeared out of nowhere and was attached to nothing. Cecil gasped. It was one of the new Bell and Howell beauties. He mentally put it on his Christmas list and then quickly dismissed it because it was illegal to receive microphones for Christmas. Microphones and cheese. And paprika.

Mayor Winchell announced that the Library would be closed, yet again, for renovations. The Librarians were adding a bathroom to the building because they were tired of leaning out of the third floor window. The bathroom would, of course, be closed to patrons and not exist. The Librarians also did not exist. Night Vale City Council hoped the renovations would be swift and cerulean-tinted. Mayor Winchell howled her agreement.

Announcements over, the game finally began. Neither Cecil nor Carlos knew anything about basketball, but attendance at the game was mandatory. Afterward, they would walk over to Big Rico's for the mandatory mid-week pizza slice. Nobody does a slice like Big Rico. Nobody. But Cecil thought that anything they did would be just fine, as long as they did it together. He squeezed Carlos' hand and Carlos squeezed back. Just then, Cecil felt a rumbling that shook him to his very core.

_I always feel the Earth move when I'm with my sweet, sweet Carlos,_ he thought fondly.

And then he felt it again.

Stronger.

And then everyone felt it.

"Cecil, what _is_ that?" Carlos asked in alarm. No, not alarm. Concern.

"I have no idea, Carlos. Perhaps it's an earthquake."

"Maybe we should all leave calmly," Carlos suggested, rising unsteadily.

"No! Stay seated!" Cecil cried, tugging Carlos back down onto the bleacher. "The Sheriff's Secret Police will tell us what to do. See! They've already started signaling in semaphore!"

Just then, out of nowhere, an airplane materialized in the gymnasium. It was small and white, but not one of Night Vale's airplanes, which were neither small nor white. A mighty wind accompanied the airplane's appearance, unsettling Carlos' perfect hair (much to Cecil's displeasure). Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the airplane was gone, merely a memory in the night. The room full of Night Vale citizens, and Carlos, sat still, gobsmacked at the sight they had just beheld. Old Woman Josie clutched her shawl tighter around her thin shoulders.

"Well I'll be!" cried John Peters, you know, the farmer.

And then the universe exploded.


	3. Gerti

"Martin! Martin! Are you alright? _Martin!_ "

Martin heard Douglas' voice, but he thought that if he kept his eyes shut, he'd go back to sleep and awaken from this nightmare.

"Martin, answer me!" Douglas was standing over his Captain, who was still strapped in his chair. "Are you hurt? We didn't even crash!"

"I'm alright, Douglas. I just want to wake up and I can't if you won't let me sleep!"

Douglas sat back in his chair and sighed. "That made no sense, Martin. You must be in shock. God knows I am."

"What happened?" Martin asked, peeking out from under half-closed eyelids.

"I don't know, one minute we were flying, the next we were in some sort of room with people, and now...we're _here_. Wherever _here_ is. At least, I think we're here. It seems we've touched down _somewhere_. Somewhere dark."

"That is the question, gentlemen," a voice barked from behind Martin.

Martin had forgotten Carolyn was on the flight deck, and he belted out a bloodcurdling scream the intensity of which a five-year-old girl would have been jealous.

"Good heavens, Martin, it's me! Carolyn! Stop that infernal squawking!"

"Oh, God, Carolyn! I forgot you were here!" Martin grabbed his chest and coughed. "I didn't need a heart attack on top of the shock."

"Perhaps you should check on Arthur and our passenger, Carolyn. Martin and I will tend to things at the pointy end," Douglas suggested in a way that suggested he was not suggesting, but commanding. He needed to calm Martin down and Carolyn wasn't helping.

"I know the brush off when I am the recipient of one," she bristled tersely, "I'll be back. Do not, I repeat, _do not_ touch anything. At this rate we may end up on Jupiter."

As soon as Carolyn left, Martin and Douglas tried every control on the instrument panel, including the sat phone. They also tried to rouse a signal on their mobiles. Nothing worked. Outside the window, a black nothingness swirled around like a dust devil. 

Douglas sighed and shook his head. "I don't know what's going on, but I fear the only way we will figure it out is to -"

"No!" Martin cried. "No, no, no. I know what you're going to say and the answer is no. No!"

"Martin -"

"We are staying put! Help will arrive. I am the Captain and I say -"

"Martin, I love you. But I am relieving you of command."

Martin slumped in his chair, still constrained by the safety harness. He nodded eagerly.

"Thank you, Douglas. Thank you. I love you, too."

Martin's easy acceptance of Douglas's mutiny spoke volumes. He was scared. Douglas reached over and patted Martin's knee.

"Everything will be fine. I promise. But I need you to be strong. Can you do that for me, sir?"

Martin smiled. Hearing Douglas call him "sir" boosted his ego, if not his confidence.

"I'll be alright, Douglas. Just tell me what you need me to do."

"Well, I _need_ you to rip off my clothes and shag me senseless over the instrument panel. However, I will settle for you unbuckling your safety harness and following me back to Carolyn."

Carolyn and Arthur were in no better shape. The absolutely unbelievable sight that beheld them all (even more unbelievable than the nothingness around them) was Mr. Brentwood, fast asleep in his seat. He never woke up. 

"Hello chaps!" Arthur chirped. "Mr. Brentwood is still asleep. Can you believe it?"

"Is he dead?" Douglas asked bluntly, eyeing their passenger with a mix of suspicion and aversion. He didn't want to touch a dead man.

"He's alive. Should we wake him?" Carolyn began to bend down.

"No!" Douglas, Martin, and Arthur cried at the same time. 

"What would we tell him?" Douglas asked.

"He...he may get...get angry," Martin stammered.

"We're out of napkins," Arthur said.

Carolyn, Martin, and Douglas turned to look at Arthur simultaneously. Arthur continued.

"If he gets hungry, how will he wipe his mouth? He's better off asleep."

Carolyn sighed. "The boy has a point. It's on top of his head..."

"Hey!" Arthur cried.

"...but Mr. Brentwood is better off asleep."

"Well, then, I suggest we try to find out where we are," Douglas said with as little enthusiasm as possible. "Carolyn, why don't you stay with Mr. Brentwood in case he wakes up. The three of us will try to find a phone, or a person, or some sign of civilization."

"Please do not let my idiot son get killed. I'm putting it on you, Douglas."

"Awww, thanks Mum," Arthur crooned.

"Yes, thanks _awfully_ , Carolyn," Douglas growled.

After Douglas, Martin, and Arthur left Gerti, armed with torches and a whistle ( _Like they use in detective stories when they get in trouble!_ Arthur said excitedly), Carolyn plopped into a seat and did something she hadn't done in years.

She prayed.


	4. Cecilos, Meet Marlas...and Arthur...and Old Woman Josie

Once the Sheriff's Secret Police cleared the Night Vale Citizens from the gym, Cecil and Carlos strayed from the pack to investigate.

"It had to have gone somewhere," Carlos explained logically. "Someone may be hurt. We have to help them."

"But how?" Cecil asked, wondering how long it would take before they could go home. Carlos looked awfully fetching in that lab coat.

"There aren't many places an airplane could land in Night Vale. We'll try the air field first, the most logical place, and go from there. How does that sound to you, Cecil?"

"Whatever you say, Carlos. I'll follow you anywhere."

"We'll take my car. Are you cold, Cecil? It's a bit chilly tonight. I have an extra lab coat if you need it."

Cecil loved how Carlos took care of him. Donning the light green lab coat, Cecil joined Carlos in his smart car. The drive to the airfield took no time at all, and soon the two were standing in the field off to the side of the airplane hangar. 

Suddenly, the hangar side-door opened and three figures emerged, pointing torches in all directions. Cecil and Carlos heard frantic voices.

"It looks like an airfield, Douglas! Could we have been that lucky?"

"Perhaps we have an angel in our corner after all, sir."

"If we can get the hangar doors open, we can leave! God, Douglas, I just want to go home to our flat."

"I know, sir. As do I. Well be home soon."

"Chaps, I think I see some people over there! Hello, people!"

"Arthur, shut up!"

"But Douglas..."

Cecil and Carlos walked toward Martin, Douglas, and Arthur.

"Hi, I'm Carlos, the resident scientist, and this is my boyfriend, Cecil. We thought you may need some help."

"Hello," Cecil said with a smile. "Welcome to Night Vale, a quiet little desert community absolutely nowhere near Nevada or Arizona."

Douglas stepped forward. "Hello, I'm First Officer Douglas Richardson, this is my boyfriend, Captain Martin Crieff, and our steward, Arthur Shappey. Could you please explain what the bloody hell happened to us?"

"Well, we're not entirely sure," Carlos replied. "Where were you heading?"

"Los Angeles from New York," Douglas explained.

"What did you see?" Carlos asked, stepping closer as if conspiring in a great secret.

"It was brilliant!" Arthur cried, surprising everyone with his outburst. "The sky turned purple! And then...and then we were in a room full of people! And then we were here! But we didn't fly here, we just...poofed here! And guess what? Our passenger never even woke up! I mean, you'd think he would wake up but he didn't! And he isn't dead, Mum checked! I said we should let him sleep because we're out of napkins and what if he gets hungry? He wouldn't be able to wipe his mouth! I never saw a purple sky! It was just...brilliant!"

Carlos looked at Douglas. 

Douglas sighed. "Yes. What he said."

Just then, a small, frail voice piped up from behind the men. 

"Perhaps I can be of assistance, gentlemen," said the small, frail voice.

Martin screamed and hid behind Douglas.

Arthur blew his whistle.

Douglas ripped the whistle violently from Arthur's mouth and threw it several feet in the opposite direction.

"Old Woman Josie!" Cecil and Carlos cried at the same time.

"Hello!" Arthur said cheerfully. "I'm Arthur, Mrs. Old Woman Josie. And up til now I had a brilliant whistle." Arthur glared at Douglas, who rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Hello, Arthur. I think I know what happened, gentlemen. If I may explain."

"Of course, please do, Josie," Carlos said gently. "I think these people would like to be on their way."

"Yes, the sooner, the better," Douglas grumbled.

"Well," Old Woman Josie began, "as you know, my Erikas left me and I haven't heard a peep from them..."

"Erikas?" Douglas murmured to Carlos.

"Angels," Carlos whispered back.

"...and I miss them so much! So tonight, while I sat in my usual spot in the bleachers, I prayed for them to come back. I thought that our team could use all the help it could get. I think my prayer missed the Erikas and hit the plane, instead, and brought it to the gym. And I bet my Erikas sent it from the gym to the hangar so it could leave unharmed."

Douglas shot a glance toward Carlos. "Is she serious?"

Carlos smiled. "It's a valid explanation. At least, it is in Night Vale."

Douglas nodded unsurely. "Well, now that we know what happened, we could use some help opening the hangar doors. And then we'll be on our way."

"Yes, you'd better had," said Old Woman Josie, looking around frantically. "The Sheriff's Secret Police are not happy that you're here. They think you're spies for Desert Bluffs, planted to distract our players and give their team the advantage."

"We've never even heard of this...this Desert Bluffs. We're...we're not even American. We're British!" Douglas growled.

"We'd better pack you on your way all the same," Carlos said, and the concern in his voice frightened Martin, who was still cowering behind Douglas.

The hangar doors were stubborn, refusing to yield without a fight. Grunting, the five men pushed with everything they could muster and managed to open the hangar doors after several painful minutes. The doors groaned in protest.

"Blimey, those are heavy!" Martin squeaked, panting from exertion.

"I'll fly out, Martin, you take a rest," Douglas suggested as he extended his hand toward Carlos. "We'll be on our way, mate."

"I suspect your equipment will work now that the Erikas are gone. You should be able to find your way back on route with no trouble," Carlos replied, clasping Douglas' hand firmly in his own.

"Does this sort of thing happen often in Night Vale?" Martin asked timidly, not really wanting to know the answer.

Cecil laughed. "This is a typical evening for us."

Martin shrank back behind Douglas. "I see," he replied, not really seeing at all. 

Douglas wrapped his arm around Martin's shoulders. "Well, cheerio. Don't take this the wrong way but we will be happy to see the back of this town."

Douglas, Arthur, and a shaky Martin headed for Gerti. Cecil, Carlos, and Old Woman Josie walked toward Carlos's car.

"Josie, the Erikas will return when they're ready. No more prayers, now. You hear?" Cecil said, taking the old woman's frail hand in his own.

"Yes, Cecil. I'm sorry about this mess. You know, we never go bowling anymore. We should go bowling one evening."

The three heard the roar of the airplane engine and watched Gerti taxi down the runway and take off. Soon it was nothing more than a speck in the purple sky.

Cecil waved although he knew the passengers could not see him. What he didn't know was that Arthur was also waving at the exact same moment. 

Things like that, coincidences that aren't, happen all the time in Night Vale.

The rest of Gerti's trip was uneventful. When the plane reached LA Airport, Mr. Brentwood awoke and stretched.

"I haven't slept so well in yonks! Thanks for the smooth ride, mates!"

He tipped generously, grabbed his luggage, and left Gerti whistling.

As for the crew, they coped in their own ways. Carolyn never accepted another charter fare anywhere near Midwest United States. Arthur kept a keen lookout for another purple sky. He thought he saw one once, but it was just a really big purple kite. Douglas accepted Martin's offer of Captaincy, to which Carolyn agreed as long as she didn't have to raise anyone's salary. Martin, however, had nightmares quite often, which meant Douglas spent many nights cradling sir in his arms. (He did not mind at all.)

The citizens of Night Vale took it in stride. When Cecil reported the phenomenon during his radio show, he referred to it as "The Night of the White Airplane." Neither the Sheriff's Secret Police nor the Night Vale City Council tried to stop his show, so the event must have been harmless.

Only Old Woman Josie saw the significance of the white airplane. It was a sign from her beloved, missing Erikas. They were still watching over her. She sat alone, in her home, awaiting their return.


End file.
